Advent – Part 2

Love ~ December 9, 2018

 Today is the second Sunday of Advent. In the traditional church calendar, Advent is not actually part of Christmas. It begins four Sundays before Christmas and ends on Christmas Eve.

During Advent, we prepare for, and anticipate, the coming of Christ. We remember the longing of Jews for a Messiah and our own longing for, and need of, forgiveness, salvation and a new beginning.

As we look back and celebrate the birth of Jesus, we also look forward, anticipating his second coming as the fulfillment of all that was promised by his first coming.

Advent is a time to prepare our hearts for Christmas. 

          Last week, we talked about hope. Today, we’re going to talk about love. However, instead of dissecting and explaining the word “love,” I want to tell you a story.

          In the late 1940s, two people you’ve probably never heard of—Robertson McQuilkin and Muriel Webendorfer—attended Columbia Bible College in Columbia, South Carolina.

          Robertson sat behind her in chapel and watched her run lovely, artistic fingers through her lovely brown hair. He proposed to her on Valentine’s Day 1948 and they were married in August of that year.

After graduating from seminary, Robertson taught at Columbia for two years and then became headmaster of a private school in North Carolina. Five years later, he and Muriel and their four children moved to Japan where they served as missionaries for twelve years. There they planted five churches and Robertson served as the interim president of Japan Christian College.

In 1968, Robertson was offered the opportunity to become the third president of his alma mater and the family moved back to Columbia, South Carolina. By now, there had six children.

During Robertson’s twenty-two years as president, school enrollment doubled, and two radio stations were founded. But he wasn’t the only one making a mark. Muriel taught at the college, painted, spoke at women’s conferences, appeared on television, and was featured on a radio program. Theirs was busy, happy, and productive life…but all was not well.

          The first signs of trouble showed up in 1978. Robertson and Muriel were vacationing with friends in Florida when Muriel laughed hilariously at the same story she’d just told five minutes earlier. Nothing like that had ever happened before but it started to happen occasionally.

          Three years later, Muriel was in the hospital for testing on her heart when a young doctor told Robertson that he should consider the possibility that Muriel had Alzheimer’s. Robertson was mad. He thought the young doctor was presumptuous and insensitive. He had no business saying such a thing when she was simply having tests on her heart.

          As his emotions cooled down, Robertson began to think about things. They had stopped entertaining at home because although Muriel was a great cook and did fine with family meals, she couldn’t seem to handle menus for guests. Then there was the portrait of Robertson she’d been commissioned by the college board to paint. She was having difficulty completing it. She hadn’t had any trouble with the portrait of the previous president.

          When her memory started to deteriorate more, they went to see a friend who was a neurologist. He administered a complete battery of tests and confirmed that Muriel did have Alzheimer’s.

          Wanting a second opinion, they went to the Duke University Medical Center. When the doctor asked Muriel to name the four Gospels, with fear in her eyes, she looked at Robertson for help.

          They returned home and decided that they wouldn’t chase every new “miracle” treatment. Little did they know that friends and family would offer suggestions at least once a week—vitamins, exorcism, diets, and miracle healers.

          One day, the program manager and producer of Muriel’s morning radio program asked Robertson for a meeting. They had a difficult time getting to the point and it dawned on Robertson that they were trying to say they could no longer air her show because she couldn’t remember what she was going to say.

          Robertson figured her public ministry was over, but she insisted on accepting invitations to speak even though she’d return home crushed and bewildered that she’d lost her train of thought and things didn’t turn out well. Gradually and reluctantly, she did give up all public appearances.

          She could still drive and go to the store and she continued to write letters to her children. Even when the letters didn’t seem to make sense, her children explained that she’d always been a bit spacy.

          She volunteered to read textbooks for a blind graduate student. Robertson put together a plan to have the audio recorded so that others could use them. He was puzzled that those in charge of the project never used the tapes until he realized that she could no longer read the books.

          Muriel never knew what was happening to her. Sometimes, while they were watching TV, a reference would be made to Alzheimer’s and she’d say to Robertson, “I wonder if I’ll ever have that.” He realized that his vibrate, creative, and articulate wife was gradually fading away.

Robertson approached the college board and told them they should start looking for a successor. If the time came that Muriel needed him full time, he wanted to be there for her. They wanted him to stay and didn’t take time to look for someone else.

He began to question what he should do. Should he continue with the ministry of the school? Should be put the kingdom of God first and let others care for Muriel?

Trusted, godly friends urged him to do just that. They assured him that Muriel would adjust to the new surroundings of a nursing home, but Robertson wasn’t so sure. Could anyone love and care for her as he could?

          In 1987, they planned their first family reunion vacation since their six children had left home. It was planned as their fortieth anniversary celebration even though it was only their 39^th. They weren’t sure if Muriel would know them at all when the fortieth rolled around.  They had a great time with their children and grandchildren.

          By that time, she could no longer speak in complete sentences and often mixed up the words the wanted to use. Actually, she was still able to articulate one sentence, “I love you.”

          The college board arranged for a caregiver to stay with Muriel while Robertson was at the office. However, when Robertson left, Muriel became agitated and it was difficult for the caregiver to keep her at home. Without him, was distressed and even terror-stricken and would often walk the one-mile round trip from their home to his office to make sure he was there. She made the trip as many as ten times a day.

          In 1990, twelve years after the first signs appeared, Robertson again approached the college board and told him he was resigning as president even though he was only eight years shy of retirement. Again, they didn’t want him to go. The school was doing to so well. Surely that couldn’t be God’s will…but his mind was made up.

          He resigned his position as president of his alma mater and cared for Muriel for another thirteen years. Early on, he’d been told that with typical Alzheimer’s patient would die within seven years of diagnosis. Muriel lived with the disease for 25 years. That’s 25 of their 55 years of marriage.

          After resigning, Robertson became Muriel’s full-time caregiver. He learned to do laundry, prepare meals, garden, and clean house. He fed her, bathed her, changed her diapers, and pushed her in a wheelchair. He watched as the lights were on, but no one was home. She listened and lost her ability to speak.

          He started caring for her full time in 1990. She stopped recognizing him in 1993. On Valentine’s Day 1995, he bathed her on the bed, kissed her goodnight, and prayed this prayer, “Dear Jesus, you love sweet Muriel more than I, so please keep my beloved through the night; may she hear the angel choirs.”

          The next morning, Robertson was riding his exercise bike at the end of her bed when she woke up. She smiled at him and spoke for the first time in months. She said, “love, love, love.” He jumped from his bike, hugged her and said, “Honey, you really do love me, don’t you.” She patted his back and said, “I’m nice.” Those were the last words she ever spoke—10 years before she passed away on September 20, 2003. Robertson passed away on June 2, 2016.

          Before I conclude this message, I want you to hear Robertson himself explain his decision to resign and care for his wife. 

          This Advent season, we remember that God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.

          We throw the word “love” around a lot. I love scrapple. I love the color orange. I love the Orioles—no matter how bad they are. I love my wife. I love my children. I love my church.

          Hopefully, I don’t love my wife and scrapple in the same way!

          I’ve learned that love isn’t primarily something we feel. It isn’t primarily something we say. It isn’t something we fall into or fall out of. Love is something we do. It is a decision we make.

          Robertson McQuilkin decided to love his wife 42 years before he resigned from his position. The decision he made in 1990 was a reflection of what he decided in 1948. He decided to care for his wife because he’d decided and committed to loving until death parted them.

          When he resigned, he may not have known that he’d care for her for 13 years, but that didn’t matter. His vows did not come with an end date. He loved Muriel even when she couldn’t love him back because that’s what he’d promised to do.

          In the same way, God loves us.

          Last week, we talked about how the Word (Jesus) became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood, (John 1:14, The Message). That was a fulfillment of God’s promise from Leviticus 26:13, I’ll set up my residence in your neighborhood; I won’t avoid or shun you…I’ll be your God; you’ll be my people.

What’s really cool is that it’s also a promise that will be further fulfilled after Jesus’ second coming. John wrote in Rev. 21:3-5, I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: “Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God. He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone.” The Enthroned continued, “Look! I’m making everything new. Write it all down—each word dependable and accurate.”

          This Advent season, in light of the McQuilkin’s story and God’s sending of Jesus, let’s remember that love isn’t primarily something we feel or say, it’s a decision we make, it’s something we do. It’s costly, it’s precious, and it’s needed.

          God was in the neighborhood in the OT in the pillars of fire and cloud and in the holy of holies in the temple. In the NT, God moved into the neighborhood in the person of Jesus Christ and then in the Holy Spirit. Today, God moves into the neighborhood through you and through me.

          The world needs God today as much as it ever has, and we are the ones tasked with taking his love to the world. So, let challenge you and pray for you that God will open the door and open your eyes to share the love of God with someone this week.

          As we prepare for the coming of Christmas, let us take to heart the words of the Apostle John, “Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions.” Let’s really be in our neighborhoods—all year long—with the love of God.